


Twenty-Seventh

by abstractelysium



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Editor Akaashi Keiji, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gift Fic, Husbands, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Major Character Injury, Married Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, POV Akaashi Keiji, Pro Volleyball Player Bokuto Koutarou, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:27:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28936257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abstractelysium/pseuds/abstractelysium
Summary: As 30-something-year-old husbands, Akaashi and Bokuto turn a setback into a step forward. And, like everything, they take it together.(A sweet little one-shot, reposted by itself from my fic collectionYou’re the Constant in my Life, based on a prompt from a generous friend. Reposted so I can properly gift it to the same wonderful friend. Enjoy!)
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	Twenty-Seventh

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lookoutol_mackeyisback](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookoutol_mackeyisback/gifts).
  * Inspired by [You're the Constant in My Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28504098) by [abstractelysium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abstractelysium/pseuds/abstractelysium). 



> This prompt was gifted to me by my dear friend Lookout, and so I am gifting them this whole fic. <3
> 
> Prompt: **mountains / dirty boots / oranges**

_(twenty-seventh of july)_

Koutarou slams the hotel room door shut with a loud bang and whirls around. His arms grab Keiji milliseconds later, and the force of it is something Keiji needs more than oxygen, so hot and desperate. Koutarou’s lips are skilled and ardent against Keiji’s; they’ve done this dance so many times, but every one is still so thrilling, so glorious. 

This one in particular burns very bright.

“ _Gold,_ ” Koutarou breathes, laughing, against Keiji’s lips. “We won _gold,_ Keiji.” His eyes are impossibly luminous.

“I know, I know...” Keiji trails off into a moan as Koutarou attacks his throat with his mouth. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Tell me I’m the best.” Koutarou teases an earlobe with his teeth.

“Oh, god, _incredible_...” Keiji is already coming undone. “The best in the _world,_ Koutarou.”

“I did it for you,” purrs Koutarou, his hips grinding into Keiji’s, against the wall. “I won for you.” Keiji whimpers. “Every spike, every point, only for you,” Koutarou groans, diving into another ravenous kiss.

“I love you,” Keiji moans urgently against his lips, and Koutarou’s hands circle under Keiji’s thighs, lifting him to slot Keiji’s hips around Koutarou’s waist. Keiji cries out, and twines his ankles. Koutarou backs them up to the wall, a gravity-defying position, pushing his eager erection hard against Keiji’s. They both groan.

“So _good,_ Keiji…” 

“I need you, I need you –” 

“I love you _so much,_ oh god...”

“Please,” Keiji begs, “please, I love you.”

Keiji’s feet don’t touch the ground as Koutarou walks them to the bed and drops Keiji onto it, landing on top of him half a breath after. They both sink into it gratefully, and begin hastily removing each other’s clothing to properly celebrate.

~

_(twenty-seventh of october)_

Keiji rushes through the doors, and hurries to the reception desk.

“Hello, sorry, I’m here to see Bokuto Koutarou? I’m his –” (Keiji pauses for only a second, out of habit; _it’s legal, it’s been years, there shouldn’t be a problem, there’s no reason to hide it_ ) “– his husband, Akaashi Keiji. Please, where is he?”

After a quick shuffling of papers on the desk, Keiji is given the room number and brief set of directions.

Minutes later, he’s found the door, and hurries inside.

“Keiji.” Koutarou’s eyes widen. “I told you not to take off work.”

“Nonsense,” Keiji dismisses, “I needed to be here. Your manager said...” he trails off, uncertain how to word it. His eyes fall instead to the awkward position of Koutarou’s arm. “What did the doctor say?”

“Waiting on the x-rays, but it’s probably my rotator cuff.” Koutarou shifts just a little and winces, inhaling with a sharp hiss and a stunted groan. 

Keiji flinches sympathetically. “I don’t think you should move it, Koutarou.”

“Yeah,” Koutarou nods, his face tensing against the pain.

A silence falls between them. Keiji pushes grey-and-black hair aside and leans in to press a kiss to his forehead.

“I’m here,” he says in a low voice. “Whatever it is, I’m here.”

~

_(twenty-seventh of october, later that day)_

“How’s the tea?”

Koutarou snorts a small laugh. “I keep reminding myself to pick it up with my other hand.”

Keiji frowns, says nothing.

The silence that hangs in the air of their apartment is thicker than usual. Keiji notices the way Koutarou’s torso has crumpled slightly, too much stillness in his usually-exuberant body, and with a sudden spark of recognition, Keiji’s high school days come back to him. _Dejected mode._

Keiji can’t just set him a rally-ending toss to pull him out of this, not now. _No one can, anymore,_ his brain reminds him sharply, _because his shoulder is…_ Keiji closes his eyes to banish the thought. It’s devastating, and Keiji almost wants to cry.

“I probably should’ve seen it coming, y’know?” Koutarou’s words are mumbled, quiet. “The coach was getting on my case about my crosses for a while now.” He turns to Keiji with a look that strikes him to the core, the deep sadness in his eyes gripping Keiji’s heart like a vice. “It’s my fault,” he says, nodding in defeat, and his golden eyes brim with tears.

“ _Koutarou,_ ” says Keiji, and he’s right there, instantly, pulling his husband’s lips against his own, hands cupping his face, thumbing his tears away. “We’ll get through this,” he says, insistent, trying to convince himself, too.

“Keiji.” Koutarou’s lip trembles heartbreakingly. “They said I’d probably _never_...” he sobs, losing the words.

“Shhh, shhh.” Keiji cradles him carefully, and his own eyes swim, overwhelmed. “We’ll deal with that, too. I promise. Whatever it takes,” he says, moving his mouth close to Koutarou’s ear to be sure he’s hearing him. “I love you so much.”

~

_(twenty-seventh of december)_

Their suite at the resort is huge, and there’s a private bathing room straight from the hot spring, along with a stunning view of the mountains. 

Keiji smiles, so he won’t bite his lip. “Isn’t it great?” he asks, anxious. “Two whole weeks.”

The suspense is awful, as Koutarou’s wide golden eyes take everything in. 

“The town is supposed to be very pleasant, and there’s the shrine for New Year’s, of course.” Keiji hopes he isn’t babbling too much. “We can stay in or go out as much as you like. And the seafood is caught daily, they told me.” He’s definitely babbling.

“It’s nice,” says Koutarou, nodding. He smiles at Keiji, warmly, but a little tight.

Keiji tries not to let his disappointment show when he smiles back. _I’ll just have to fight a little harder, that’s all._

He moves in close, hands seeking the warmth of Koutarou’s chest, his back. “And you get me all to yourself, as much as you want,” he purrs, “no work deadlines to pull me away.”

“Mmm,” Koutarou hums, with satisfaction, and he draws Keiji in for a lingering kiss. “You’re my favorite part.”

~

_(twenty-seventh of january)_

“I’ll get it down.”

Keiji’s hand shoots out, with alarm. “Koutarou – it’s too high – !”

The box drops forward suddenly, and Koutarou lets out a sharp yelp of pain as its weight falls hard against his injured shoulder.

“Koutarou!”

The box tumbles to the closet floor a moment later with a loud crash, some of the broken contents spilling out everywhere. 

Keiji’s hands rush to check, to soothe. “Oh, god, are you alright? Tell me where it hurts.”

“I’m fine!” Koutarou barks, angry, and in pain.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s my fault, let me get the ice pack –”

“I’ll get it myself!” Koutarou storms off, holding his shoulder and wincing.

Keiji drops his forehead against a lower shelf, squeezing his eyes shut and exhaling a frustrated sigh. Then he frowns, glancing down the hall toward the kitchen, and moves to start picking up the spilled contents of the box. 

~

_(twenty-seventh of march)_

“Maybe a cooking class?” Keiji rolls over to look at him.

Koutarou frowns. “Might be too vigorous for my shoulder.” 

“What about a garden?”

Koutarou pulls a face. “Too tedious.”

Keiji chuckles, and reaches for his husband’s hand across the bed. He pulls Koutarou’s fingers to his lips, kissing each knuckle reverently. “We’ll find something.”

Koutarou’s face darkens, suddenly, and Keiji immediately feels the shift in the air. He waits. 

“I miss it so much,” says Koutarou, in a quiet murmur. “The team, the games. Everything.”

Keiji sighs. “I know.” He presses a solid kiss to the palm of Koutarou’s hand, caressing over it with his thumb. He finds his husband’s eyes. “I know.”

They lie together quietly for a long moment.

“My boss joked that you should write a book,” says Keiji, smiling. “A memoir, even.” He glances over. “I told him there’s no chance you have the patience to sit and write for months.”

Koutarou’s head turns slowly, and he blinks. “A memoir.”

“It’s just a silly idea –”

“No,” says Koutarou, and a weird smile starts to take over his face. “It’s not.”

Keiji groans, and he pushes his face into the pillow. “You can’t be serious.”

“You’ll help me,” says Koutarou, and his eyes shine hopefully, locked with Keiji’s. “It actually sounds really fun, Keiji. I mean it.”

Koutarou’s smile is so real, so eager, lighting him up for the first time in months, and Keiji sighs heavily. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll talk to my boss.”

~

_(twenty-seventh of may)_

“Keiji!” Koutarou calls, repeatedly, from another room. “Keiji, Keiji, Keiji, Keiji...”

Keiji pinches the bridge of his nose, and smiles in spite of himself. “In my office, Koutarou. You know I have a deadline.”

“This is more important!” Koutarou’s golden eyes are full of eagerness, as his head pops through the door. “I need your help with this part. Come to the living room?” Keiji sighs, and Koutarou’s smile becomes apologetic. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

On the couch, in front of Koutarou’s sleek laptop that he barely used until recently, Keiji squints at the passages he’s written. “You’re writing about Fukuroudani,” says Keiji, brow furrowing. 

“Yeah,” says Koutarou, biting a lip to hide his excitement. “And about _us,_ ” he adds.

“Oh.” Keiji scans more carefully, actually somewhat impressed with the quality of the prose. He chooses a sentence to read aloud. “ _Every ace needs a solid setter to support them, one who can make use of their strengths and close the gaps of their weaknesses. Akaashi Keiji, however, was so much more than just a solid setter, even in his first year – he quickly became my friend, my partner, my better half, the one who knows me even better than I know myself._ ” Keiji’s mouth twitches into a smile, touched. He clears his throat. “You should make the verb tense agree, though – you’re talking about things that happened in the past, you shouldn’t switch to present tense here,” he says, pointing out the change in the line _‘the one who knows me even better than I know myself’_. 

Koutarou frowns, cocking his head in confusion. “But, Keiji, it’s still true, though. Why wouldn’t I use present tense?”

“Oh,” says Keiji, and he feels a blush bloom over his cheeks. “I guess it’s alright, then.” He scans the passages for another moment. “This is… this is good, Koutarou.”

“You think?” Koutarou’s eyes shine.

“Yes, of course. I would say if otherwise.” He leans over to kiss Koutarou on the forehead. 

“I want to write more about us,” says Koutarou, fidgeting somewhat. “Not everything, but… about the important stuff. Some of our big moments.” He glances at Keiji, nervously. “Would that be okay?”

Keiji has reservations, but he also knows it’s from years of things he probably shouldn’t worry about as much anymore. “How about this – you write it, and I’ll read over it, and let you know.”

“Keiji,” says Koutarou fondly, breaking into a grin. He kisses him on the cheek. “But what if I write a bunch of great stuff and then you won’t let me keep it?”

“Oh, I’ll keep it,” Keiji says, teasingly. “Maybe not in the book, but… Just for me. Just for us.”

Koutarou’s eyes widen. “Okay. Okay, good.”

Koutarou starts tapping away at the keyboard, adding new prose. Keiji rises, and knows he should return to his office, but he hesitates.

“You writing about Fukuroudani has me thinking, Koutarou.” He’s just a little careful, uncertain what the next thought might lead to.

“Mmm?” Koutarou looks up at him from the laptop.

Keiji furrows his brow. “You’re an Olympic volleyball champion. You never thought about coaching? Everyone would want you,” he says, watching Koutarou carefully.

Koutarou’s eyes crinkle and soften. “I thought about it too. I don’t think I’m good enough, Keiji.” Keiji rushes to protest, _of course he is,_ but Koutarou shakes his head, grey-and-black hair moving with him. “You were always better at analyzing in the moment than me, that quick thinking. At the pro levels, I just know I wouldn’t be able to keep up.” He smiles at Keiji, gentle and resigned.

Keiji feels the truth in his words, but he loves him too much to let him sell himself short like that. “It would mean getting to be on the court, again,” he says, wistfully, wanting that for Koutarou. Badly.

“I know,” says Koutarou, taking Keiji’s hand and kissing it softly. 

“What about… _not_ the pro levels?” asks Keiji, suddenly struck. Koutarou cocks his head at him. “What about… oh, goodness, what about children, Koutarou? Middle school, even?”

Koutarou’s face splits into an abrupt grin, and then a laugh. “Oh, man, can you imagine me coaching kids?”

“Yes,” says Keiji, and it’s such a good thought that he grins too, really wide, and nods with enthusiasm. “Absolutely I can.”

“Huh,” says Koutarou, smiling and considering.

“They’d _love_ you, Koutarou,” says Keiji. “You still _are_ a kid,” he adds, with a smirk.

“Keeeeiiiijjiiii,” Koutarou whines at him, objecting, but not really. His smile gets bigger. 

~

_(twenty-seventh of august)_

“Hey, hey, heeeey!!”

“COACH!” The clump of preteen boys breaks apart to rush Koutarou when they see him approaching, lit up with energy. The first ones to reach him wrap their arms around his legs, and the rest tackle in behind them, until Koutarou sways dangerously, threatening to topple over. 

“Koutarou!” says Keiji without thinking, but then, when he sees his husband still upright and laughing, the knot of boys clinging to him with glee, he lets himself smile too, and remembers the example they should set. “Please be careful, _Bokuto-san._ ”

Koutarou just grins brightly at him, then turns to the kids. “Alright, that’s enough! We’ve got a lot of practice to get through today, but I brought a _surprise_ for the end. Who’s ready to start stretching?!”

The children cheer, releasing Koutarou’s legs and racing onto the court. Koutarou gets them arranged into a circle and starts playfully chanting counts, almost singing to the eager young players, adding silly words and making them smile through each set of stretches.

Keiji’s attention is pulled by the teacher-in-charge. “Akaashi-san, thank you for helping today,” says Takeuchi-sensei.

“Of course. We brought the bags of oranges for after practice.” 

“I’ve never seen this many sign-ups for a summer training camp,” says the teacher, watching Koutarou shouting joyously across the gym. “If we do this again next year, we might actually have to turn some away.”

“ _Now the other leg! And a-one, two, a-three-dee-dee, four!_ ”

Keiji grins, hopelessly enamored. He turns back to Takeuchi-sensei. “There’s something about him, isn’t there?”

“He’s _so good_ with them, Akaashi-san.” Takeuchi-sensei’s eyes are bright with happiness.

“He really is,” says Keiji, almost to himself, and feels the spark of something warm in his chest, an idea he hadn’t considered before. 

He’ll mention it to Koutarou later. For now, he focuses on getting all the oranges out onto the tables in the courtyard, with Takeuchi-sensei’s assistance.

~

_(twenty-seventh of september, over a year later)_

Keiji shuts the door to the little room, quietly as he can, and walks cautiously down the hall, feeling relieved. His steps take him to the entryway, where he finds the tiny pair of bright red mud-covered boots. He picks them up with a grin, taking note of Koutarou’s equally dirty pair of boots nearby, and shakes his head, chuckling under his breath. He carries the smaller pair to the utility sink they had installed shortly after moving in here, almost six months ago. 

Keiji washes the mud off, scrubbing a little in the stubborn spots, and finds a towel to wipe them down with, before he sets them to dry beneath the sink.

He starts to go back for the other mud-covered pair, but he is distracted by Koutarou’s voice, loud in the living room.

“Okaa-chan! I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier, I was outside with Aiko,” he’s saying, energetically. Keiji hurries into the room, a finger over his lips. 

Koutarou’s eyes widen when he sees Keiji, and he makes an apologetic face, tensing his shoulders slightly. “Oh, sorry, I’m too loud,” he whispers into the phone. Koutarou asks a silent question of Keiji with his eyes, and Keiji nods, turning his head to the hall, and the little room beside it. Koutarou nods and grins in understanding, pumping a fist in victory. “She just went down for a nap,” Koutarou says into the receiver, keeping quiet. Keiji smiles at him, warmly.

Keiji can hear his mother-in-law’s voice on the other end of the phone, although he can’t pick out the words. Koutarou sits down on the couch, and pats the seat next to him. Keiji sinks down gratefully, pulling his legs into Koutarou’s lap and listening in.

“Yes, she’s so sweet, Okaa-chan, three years old. We’re so lucky that we got her, and right in time for my birthday, too!” 

Keiji snorts quietly. The process took a long time, and they were on a list for months, so it’s really just a happy accident that the adoption was finalized on Koutarou’s birthday a week ago, but Keiji knows how endlessly delighted his husband was by the coincidence.

“Her name is Aiko, yes, I told you. No, we didn’t pick it, but we _love_ it. Yes, ‘child of love’, I know. We couldn’t be happier.” 

Keiji can’t fight the grin on his face, watching Koutarou recounting all the details for his mother’s benefit. He feels so _satisfied_ , at last – the darkness that hung like a cloud over their lives for so long following Koutarou’s forced retirement from volleyball finally retreating with the sunlight that Aiko has brought into their world. Like a puzzle piece they didn’t realize they were missing, finally clicking into place. Keiji cuddles closer to Koutarou on the couch, reaching for his free hand, to press a series of soft kisses all over it.

“No, it’s great – she calls me ‘Papa’, and Keiji ‘Otou-chan’. It’s adorable, Okaa-chan, you should hear her,” says Koutarou, grinning at Keiji.

More excited burblings that Keiji can’t make out.

“Of course you should come visit! We’d love you to meet her,” says Koutarou, glancing at Keiji, who nods an affirmation. 

Keiji gets lost in his own thoughts for a minute, the dizzy whirl of contentment settling into his bones. Keiji feels comfortable, _right_. The gears of the world moving synchronously toward the good in their lives, no matter the grind of the past. 

Keiji tunes back in to hear Koutarou saying “...yes, and the pre-orders for my book are very exciting so far. Keiji and I are talking with the publishers about signings and appearances right now, but of course I’ll get you a copy, Okaa-chan.” He winks at Keiji.

“Well, I should go, Keiji and I need to clean up and start on dinner. No, of course! Next weekend, yes, please do come. I love you so much. Okay, I’ll talk to you again soon. Bye.” He lowers the phone and hangs up. “Next weekend?” he asks, and Keiji nods.

“It’s no trouble at all, if she’s coming here,” says Keiji. “Work is slowing down for me for a while, and my parents are planning to visit the weekend after.” 

“Okay, great!” Koutarou’s smile is wide and easy, and the hand that Keiji is holding hostage squeezes Keiji’s lovingly. “Aiko loved the rain, by the way. She was screaming with laughter as we splashed through the puddles outside.”

“I know, you did a great job wearing her out for her nap,” says Keiji, and then his voice turns teasing, “and you left a mess in the entryway.”

“Oh! I did. I’m sorry.”

“It’s no trouble,” says Keiji with a chuckle. “I already cleaned her rain boots, and was going for yours when I overheard.”

“I can clean them,” says Koutarou, and he pulls on Keiji’s arm, until Keiji relents and lets his husband draw him into his lap to cuddle even closer together. He reaches for Keiji’s face with one hand, and their lips meet, warm and blissful. 

They stay like that for a long time, just cuddling and kissing comfortably, while the rain falls outside. 

“I love you,” says Keiji, when Koutarou’s lips travel to nibble at his neck, “but this is not getting your boots any cleaner.”

“Mmm,” hums Koutarou, “but I haven’t had a chance to do this with you for a while.”

“Do what?” asks Keiji, and Koutarou’s tongue gets a little more insistent, so Keiji hums his approval. Koutarou’s hands slide around Keiji, and push him into the couch, where Koutarou finds his lips again for a deeper, more heated kiss. Keiji’s hands start to meander, too, responding.

“Mmm,” hums Koutarou again, but this time, it’s an invitation. “Everything.” His hands climb up under Keiji’s shirt, teasing his warm skin. “I love you,” Koutarou breathes into the space above Keiji’s collarbone, and sucks on it gently.

Keiji is losing track of whatever he was supposed to chide his husband about, as his body starts to inform him of pressing impulses it’s having. “Koutarou,” he sighs, but tries to make it sound like a warning, “she’s asleep.”

Koutarou lifts an eyebrow, and murmurs, “Then you better be quiet, Keiji.” His fingers settle on the button of Keiji’s jeans, and Keiji’s hand darts out.

“Okay, okay, yes, _desperately_ , but not here, not on the couch.”

Koutarou’s forehead falls against Keiji’s stomach and he groans quietly, but he kisses Keiji once more and stands up to lead them both toward the bedroom. 

“I love you,” whispers Koutarou, as they tiptoe past Aiko’s door and down the hall.

“I love you,” says Keiji ardently, after he closes their bedroom door.

~~~

**Author's Note:**

> *distant muffled sobbing about what great dads they both would be*
> 
> [I really need to stop writing MCI; my excessively empathetic body always rewards me with phantom pain.]
> 
> LOVE YOU LOOKOUT! Thank you thank you thank you for the prompt!!! <3
> 
> Anyway! Leave me a comment! Thanks for reading!


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